Lovely in Red, page 16
“Look up and listen carefully.” My eyes meet his. He strokes the side of my face. “If you want me to stop, you pinch me. Otherwise, keep your hands on my thighs and take what I give you. If you understand and agree, tap once.”
Oh fuck. I know exactly what he’s planning. I quickly tap his thigh, once.
He presses his hand into my hair and grips tight. My balls clench as my thighs tremble. “Remember to breathe through your nose, pretty baby.”
I attempt to nod but his cock in my mouth and hand in my hair make it impossible.
Atticus pushes me down slowly—inch by inch. I breathe through my nose. His cock pins my tongue down. As soon as he hits the back of my throat, I gag. He groans as my throat spasms around his swollen cockhead and doesn’t let me pull back. It’s too much, like always. My eyes burn and tears spill down my cheeks.
“Relax your throat. You can do it, pretty baby—for me. Can’t you?”
Can I? I honestly don’t know. But I’m not struggling against his hold either.
I squeeze my eyes closed and try to inhale through my nose. Atticus hums, a satisfied sound; he cups my jaw with his other hand and thrusts slowly.
“Look at you,” he whispers. I look up. His forehead is damp, face flushed, eyes glazed with pleasure. “So perfect. I’m so pleased with you.”
Oh fuck. My thighs tremble. Is it possible for me to come just from this?
“I’m cl—”
A knock echoes through the apartment. Atticus and I freeze, my blood turning to ice in my veins, as my front door handle turns.
“Calix!” Oh shit. Oh shit. I pull back, scrambling to fix my clothes. “You home?”
No. No. The door swings open just after Atticus puts his cock away.
“It’s my brother,” I hiss as I grab a pillow and slap it over Atticus’ lap. I drop beside him, doing the same thing. We look guilty as hell when Stephen steps into my apartment, loaded down with bags, followed by his wife Quinn. They pause on the threshold and look between us. “Dude.” Stephen snickers.
“Dude, why are you in my house?” I ask.
Why didn’t he freaking knock? Or call ahead? Who gave him permission to just use the spare key I gave him anytime he wants? Seriously. What the fuck?
Stephen frowns, his eyes skipping between Atticus and me before settling on me. “Have you forgotten?” Forgotten what? He shakes his head and crosses the room to set the bags he’s carrying down. Quinn follows, a smile teasing the edge of her mouth. She knows damn well I forgot something and the reason has something to do with the hot guy sitting beside me. “It’s Dad’s birthday. You agreed to host. Remember?”
No. I don’t fucking remember.
Why in the hell did I agree to host Dad’s birthday again?
The old bastard doesn’t even like me.
I look at Atticus, who looks unbothered but ridiculous with a pillow hiding his boner. He reaches out and rubs my shoulder. It does little to help with the tension pulling my body tight like a bowstring.
“Mom and Dad are going to be here in—” Stephen checks his watch. “About an hour. Is your . . . friend staying?”
“Yes,” Atticus says. My gaze shoots to him. What?
Stephen steps forward and offers his hand. “I’m Stephen. This is my wife, Quinn.”
Atticus stands. I stare at the pair as I realize he’s slightly taller than Stephen, who has always been the tallest person I know. Damn.
“Atticus.” He takes Stephen’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Stephen’s frown is back. “You look familiar.”
Atticus shrugs as he holds his hand out to Quinn. “Just one of those faces.”
Quinn takes his hand. “Welcome to the shit show, Atticus.”
“Quinn,” Stephen groans. He looks at his wife, who grins. “Really?”
“What? You already know tonight is going to be an episode of How I Survived.”
“It’s not too late to leave,” I tell Atticus, because Quinn isn’t wrong. Tonight . . . I don’t even want to think about all the ways it could go badly.
“Do you want me to go?” he asks. I open my mouth, maybe to tell him it’s best if he heads home, but I shake my head before I can form the sentence. Honestly? No, I don’t want him to go. Tonight with my dad will be a shit show, but with Atticus beside me maybe it will be easier. Besides, we’ve been dating for a couple weeks now. Perfect time to meet the family, right?
I sigh and comb my fingers through my hair. “We should probably get dressed.”
Atticus takes my hand and tugs me out of the living room. As soon as my bedroom door shuts behind us, he reaches for me. I sink into his embrace and squeeze my eyes closed. Should I preemptively apologize for the birthday dinner he’s going to have to endure?
“It’s going to be fine,” Atticus says, his hands steady as he rubs my back.
It probably won’t be. There’s nothing I can do about it now though.
I pull out of his arms and take a deep breath. “It’s best if we’re ready by the time they get here.”
Dad doesn’t need more ammunition. I’m sure he’ll come well supplied.
“I’m not sure I have anything appropriate for meeting the parents, or a party,” Atticus says as he digs in his bag. I pull a pair of jeans and a shirt from the closet.
“Casual is fine,” I assure him.
“If you’re sure . . .”
I try to smile but I’m sure it looks more like a grimace. “Trust me, it doesn’t matter what we wear.”
Dad will have something to say regardless.
“How bad can it be?” Atticus asks. I laugh and shake my head.
We both get dressed, tugging on clothes and stopping to brush our teeth.
Atticus spits in the sink and dries his mouth. “Is there anything I can do to make tonight easier?”
Murder my dad probably isn’t the right idea. But it’s a tempting one.
“Just be your normal charming self,” I tell him after I rinse out my mouth. “Maybe don’t mention my job.” The old man doesn’t need any encouragement.
Atticus steps behind me and takes hold of my hips. The heat of his body seeps through my shirt and I relax against him. He wraps his arms around my waist and nuzzles my neck, kissing the thin skin of my throat before meeting my gaze in the mirror. I look paler than usual. Atticus is glowing though.
“What do you want me to say if they ask how we met?” he asks.
“I commissioned you for work.” It’s not a lie. I did commission Atticus for work. We just won’t mention the kind of work he’s doing for me. Or that I knew him beforehand. “A painting or something like that if they want specifics.”
“I can do that.” He cups my jaw and tips my head back. I close my eyes and part my lips when his mouth slides over mine. The heat of him, the playful dance of his tongue, has the last of my tension draining away. Who really cares if tonight is a shit show? Atticus isn’t going to be scared away by one old, homophobic asshole.
“Okay.” I pant for breath when his mouth leaves mine. “Let’s join Stephen and Quinn.”
Chapter Nineteen
ATTICUS
If Calix’s apprehension is any indication, dinner with his family can and probably will end badly in a number of ways and for just as many reasons. I’m going to do my best to be damn sure I’m not the reason things go bottoms up. The last thing I want is his family—mostly Stephen, Quinn or Calix’s mother, since they all seem to have a good relationship—ousting me, not when Calix is finally mine. But I make no promises either if they upset him.
We leave the bedroom, Calix’s shaky hand safe in mine, and join Stephen and Quinn again. They’re running around like chickens with their heads cut off, tidying up a non-existent mess. Calix’s home is lived in but not messy—not since I’ve been staying here and slowly organizing the chaos, anyway.
“Is your playroom locked?” Stephen asks, pausing in folding a throw blanket. I have to give him credit for calling the room what it is and not shying away from the reminder of what Calix does for a living.
“I figure if I leave it open Dad will wander in, have a heart attack and die instantly,” Calix says as he leans into my side.
I chuckle under my breath and squeeze his hand. “I’ll lock it.”
He nods and I slip down the short hallway.
“He knows what you do?” Stephen asks, his voice carrying as I inspect the room, making sure everything is put away just in case his dad does manage to bypass the lock. No dildos or other sex toys are scattered around. The bed is even made. The camera equipment makes it pretty obvious this room is used for filming though. Nothing to be done about that.
“If he didn’t you just outed me, but yeah. He knows,” Calix says as I lock the door and pull it shut. Why the door even needs to be locked—why his dad is randomly opening doors in his house—is a question for another time.
“And . . .” Stephen trails off.
“And what?” Calix asks, a harsh rasp to his voice. “And does he have a problem with it because—”
“Whoa. Come on, dude. Don’t come at me. You know I’m not the enemy here.”
I rejoin them, laying a hand on Calix’s nape. He relaxes into my hold and I gently squeeze, smiling at him before I look at Stephen. “I know about Calix’s job and I don’t care.”
“That’s good. What do you do for a living?” Stephen asks, arching a brow as he starts to clean again.
Calix speaks before I can. “You can give him the third degree when Mom and Dad are here. No one wants to keep having the same conversation all night.”
I chuckle and run my hand down his back. “Take a deep breath, pretty baby.”
He leans into my hold, closes his eyes, inhales and exhales several times. “Sorry. I just . . .” Calix slumps as he looks up at me. I hate how small and helpless he looks. My stomach rolls and I tug him into my arms, hugging him tight. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing hard enough to hurt.
Stephen moves to help Quinn set the table and lay out the food they brought. It’s a good thing they came prepared because Calix and I need to have a grocery order delivered. We’ve been taking turns cooking and our food supplies are on the decline.
“I’m here. Whatever you need. And I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” I whisper.
Calix nods. “Okay. I . . . Thank you.”
I cup his face in my hands and brush a kiss over his mouth. He doesn’t need to thank me for anything. “I love you, Calix.”
He sucks in a sharp breath and his eyes widen. Before he can reply, there’s a sharp knock on the front door; I release him as everyone turns to look, but no one seems willing to answer. Quinn is the first to move, rushing towards the door and pulling it open with a smile. “We’re so glad you could make it. Come in.”
“Thank you, dear,” a soft, feminine voice replies before an older couple steps through the doorway.
The woman is short and plump, a soft smile in place as her long gray hair falls in well tamed waves around her shoulders. Her eyes are bright, kind and most importantly happy when they land on the man standing at my side after she gives Quinn a quick, firm hug. Calix has her nose. Her husband is tall, barrel chested, sharp eyed and frowning. The wrinkles around his mouth can’t be mistaken for laugh lines. He isn’t happy to be here at all. Hopefully, he doesn’t purposely set out to upset Calix. I’ll be hard pressed to hold my tongue if he does.
“Happy birthday, Dad.” Stephen says, stepping forward and shaking his dad’s hand before hugging his mom, who embraces him just as briefly as she did Quinn.
“Happy birthday,” Calix parrots, but he doesn’t move from my side. “These are my parents—Rebecca and William. And this is Atticus Chanyu.” He squeezes my hand and I squeeze back. “My boyfriend.”
I step forward, pulling Calix with me, and extend my hand to William. “It’s nice to meet you, sir. And happy birthday.”
He looks down at my hand for a long moment before he grasps it. His grip is firm, borderline painful, but I don’t flinch. Pain and I are old friends. “Chanyu.” His brow furrows, his gaze narrowing. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
I extract my hand from his and wrap an arm around Calix. “You may have heard it on the local news recently. My father is the Chief of Police.”
It isn’t a secret. Anyone who looks me up can discover that.
“What are you doing with Calix then? Shouldn’t you be dating a pretty girl? Or I guess you’re a sissy boy too.” William rolls his eyes and wipes his hand off on his thigh. I school my expression and tighten my arm around Calix when he flinches against my side.
“William!” Rebecca snaps. Her cheeks are a deep shade of pink. “You promised to behave tonight. I’m so sorry, Atticus.”
Calix opens his mouth but before he can say a word Stephen slams an elbow into his side, hard enough to shut him up. I glare, tempted to return the hit, but Calix is between us. “Let’s try and get through dinner and not embarrass Calix in his home in front of his boyfriend, Dad.”
“I just asked a question,” William huffs. His questions were rude as fuck, and if anyone should be embarrassed it’s William, but I say nothing. I don’t give a shit about his opinion or what he thinks of me.
“No one likes your questions,” Calix counters, crossing his arms over his chest. I shift my hand and rub his lower back. “You can get the fuck out, birthday or not.”
“Come on guys,” Stephen pleads, a whine in his voice. Quinn looks at me, a secret smile pulling at her mouth as she shakes her head. I smile in response.
Welcome to the shit show, indeed.
“Enough. We’re all going to enjoy a family meal together. Everyone sit down. Now.” Rebecca grasps her husband’s elbow and urges him towards the dinner table.
“Whatever,” Calix whispers, his mouth turned down as he watches William, Stephen and Quinn. I’m with Calix. They can all get the fuck out. William at the very least.
“Ignore him, Calix. He’s just a grumpy old man. No one here cares about his nasty opinion. Let me look at you.” Rebecca takes Calix by the shoulders and inspects him from head to toe with a keen eye. Her mouth turns down at the corners as she tsks. “You’ve gotten so skinny. Have you been eating? Should I bring over some ready-made meals? How about your favorite lasagna? That’ll put some meat on your bones.”
A small smile pulls at Calix’s mouth. “I’m fine, Mom.”
I wrap my arm around his waist. “I’ve been keeping him well fed, Mrs. Litten. Promise.”
“Milk with every meal. Scout’s honor,” Calix says, a smile fighting for space on his face. I bite back a laugh. Did he really just say that to his own mother?
Rebecca seems unaware of the joke—she grins and pulls Calix into a tight hug, letting him go after a long moment. Her happiness is clear as day. She loves her son, and for that I am thankful. “He’s already taking care of you. And he’s so handsome too. It’s lovely to meet you, dear. I am sorry about William. He’s—” She shakes her head, a sad tilt to her mouth. I’m glad she didn’t make an excuse for him.
“The pleasure is all mine,” I assure her as I drop an arm around Calix’s shoulders.
“Are you a policeman as well?” she asks as we move to the dining room and take our places at the table. William, his expression pinched and openly hostile, is sitting at the head. Rebecca sits to his left. Calix sits as far away as possible, at the other end of the table; I sit on his right, next to Stephen.
“No, ma’am,” I answer Rebecca once we’re all settled. “I’m not sure I should be trusted with a gun.” My father would never have let me go to the police academy, not with my shaky at best grasp on right and wrong. And thank fuck for that, because the idea of protecting and serving even the truly awful turns my stomach. No thanks. “I’m a graphic designer.”
“What kind of designs do you do?” Stephen asks as the food is passed around.
“It varies from commission to commission since I work with mostly individuals and companies these days. Right now, I’m doing several character designs for an author.” I still occasionally paint, and sell that work through my online store, but not enough for a showing in recent years. Most of my money comes from digital art.
“How did you meet Calix?” Rebecca asks as she passes the last bowl to Quinn so she can get some mashed potatoes.
“He’s my biggest fan,” Calix says, before shoving a forkful of food in his mouth and glaring at everyone. I smother my smile behind my own bite. He’s not wrong, after all. And apparently, he’s choosing violence. I can’t say I blame him. “He’s watched me fuck myself so much he fell in love.” Once more . . . he’s not wrong.
“If you’re hell bent on being a disgusting whore the least you can do is not brag about it,” William snaps, spittle dribbling down his chin as his face flushes red with anger. I bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood. It’s the eighth wonder of the world, the fact I’m not already across the table, cutting his tongue from his mouth.
“William—”
“Disgusting is knowing Atticus has fucked me right here, on this dinner table, more than once,” Calix says, cutting Rebecca off, and William’s face twists as he shoves his food away. His drink wobbles; Quinn quickly steadies it while sharing a look with Stephen. “Don’t worry though, Dad. You taught me well. Each time he plows me I take it like a man.”
Quinn chokes on her water.
Stephen pats her back, apparently accepting this birthday dinner is doomed.
I sigh and lay my hand on Calix’s shoulder. “I know you’re angry and have every right to be. I don’t blame you.” His mouth turns down and his eyes grow wet. I brush my thumb over his collarbone as I fist my other hand in my lap. “But . . . fuck him. So what if he doesn’t approve of your job? His opinion matters very little when you’re paying your bills. Or when I’m plowing you. It damn sure doesn’t change my opinion of you.”
Calix glares down the table at William before meeting my gaze. “I don’t care if he approves of my job. Or if he thinks I’m a whore. I just don’t want the homophobic asshole in my home, telling me how to live my life or saying that I’m disgusting.”
